


Chains

by starkaryen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Hannibal, Post-Episode: s03e06 Dolce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/pseuds/starkaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being captured in Italy and brought to Muskrat Farm, Hannibal has to find a way of escaping from Mason. But he discovers that he still has Will Graham, so he has to change his initial plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redkakumei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/gifts).



> Ok, so... After watching episode 3x06 and the preview for the next one, I ran to tell [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/) how I thought it could end the next episode, and she completely agreed, so I just _had_ to write this.  
>  So, there are spoilers from: episode 3x06, the preview from 3x07 (only ONE thing, but just in case), and the summary plot for 3x07. The rest, if it's similar to the actual episode (I wish!) it's just coincidence.
> 
> Other things:
> 
> * I can't say this is my first long fanfic in English since I would be lying ([this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1541039) is the first I wrote, also a hannigram…), but I'm saying the same: I'm truly sorry if there are typos or grammatical errors and stuff like that, since English is not my mother tongue.  
> * As if writing about Hannibal and Hannibal/Will wasn't difficult enough (at least for me) I decided to write a fic where I HAD to write it with Hannibal POV. I hope I haven't done a shitty job!  
> * I decided to omit the existence of Chiyo, because... well, just because.  
> * The title is from Chains, from Radical Face, song that I included on the fanmix I made for the mentioned Hannigram fanfic (link above).  
> * And just… enjoy! I guess. I will always have this on my mind as the perfect ending for this part of the season and the start of Red Dragon.

This was not how he would’ve liked to spend his last moments of freedom, if he had been given the choice. But nobody let him choose, so he had to adapt, as he always had. Only this time, his instincts told him one thing, and he did the opposite.

When he cut the ropes that had been keeping him prisoner, he felt something that was not comparable with anything. Freedom was such a powerful thing, and it was something that most people took for granted. But not him. Hannibal had learned that it was a precious thing, and it was to be kept with care.  
That’s why, when the leash that had been around his neck hit the floor with a metallic sound, he smiled. But there was no time to take pleasure in his victory, so he began the plan he had been tracing for the past two days, while he had been caged like a pig, wondering when Mason would cut him and eat him, not with worry, but with curiosity. But he wasn’t _that_ curious. He much preferred the possibility of escaping, and that’s what he intended to do.  
He started by reclaiming his bloodstained and ripped clothes from the room where he had seen Mason’s butcher (he would refuse to call him cook) stored them after he had stripped him. The next thing he did, was look for a weapon. He already had the little but sharp knife he had stolen from the butcher that had been his escape’s mean, but he also found a hook for hanging pigs. He inspected it, and decided it would do the job. And so, he got out of the barn with the hook in one hand, the knife inserted on the waist of his pants, and the limp on his right leg.  
But he didn’t go very far, because when he got out of the giant and empty building where Mason had kept him, he almost bumped into someone else. The first thing he thought was that he was more tired and injured than what he had thought, because he hadn’t heard or smelled her. And she certainly was noisy, stepping into the gravel of the floor with no care at all.

“What are you doing here?” Hannibal asked her with a calm voice.  
“What? How did you escape?” Alana asked with a shrill, but not very loud voice. That told him she wasn’t supposed to be there, either, and Hannibal tilted his head, curious.  
“I let myself out. Mason wasn’t being a very attentive host”, he replied.

He was adjusting the hook on his hand while he talked, but he didn’t attack, since Alana had a gun pointed at his head, which was inconvenient, although not alarming. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked her again, letting the corner of his lips bend upwards a little.

She was afraid, he could smell it, but she suddenly regained control over herself and she loosed a little the grip on the gun, relaxing and holding it more comfortably. And she also smiled a little.

“I’m saving Will. I agreed to help Mason do anything he wanted with you, but not with Will.”

Hannibal frowned for a fraction of a second.

“Will’s still here?”

Alana looked at him with suspicion, as if she was expecting him to know.

“Yes”, she replied, and then they looked at each other for a couple of seconds, in silence.  
“Why?” Hannibal asked, with a voice so low Alana wouldn’t have heard him if they were a little more distant from each other.  
“Mason’s not stupid. He knows he could use Will if something… like _this_ happened. If you tried to kill him, or tried to escape”, she explained, although they were both aware that Hannibal already knew the answer. Alana then sighed. “Look, I’m here for Will, so if I try to stop you I will alert everyone and he will probably kill him, so… I won’t say this twice. Go. Go now, and I won’t shoot you, I won’t try to stop you.” 

She got something out of her pocket and threw it right beside Hannibal’s right foot. He took a peek at it: a car’s keys. Alana’s car keys, he assumed.

Hannibal looked past her and, near another building, he saw the front of her car parked. She wasn’t lying. He looked at her again, and then he bent down slowly to pick them up, only to stretch his arm to her, with the keys hanging from his fingers.

“No”, he said.

Alana frowned, confused, and it took her a couple of second to reach her hand and take the keys from him, always pointing the gun at him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked her, moving towards where the other buildings where located, and more specifically, the mansion. 

Hannibal started walking towards the mansion, and for a moment he tensed not sure of what would happen: if Alana would shoot him, if she would unwillingly go with him or if she would go her own way. But then he heard her loud footsteps and she appeared on the corner of his eye, still pointing her gun at him.

“I am not working with you”, she said, probably more to herself than to Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at her briefly. If he ‘d cared a little, he would’ve rolled his eyes at her.

They walked towards the mansion, but right when he was about to decide whether to go through the main door or search for another entry, Alana passed him, very sure of the way she had to take. Hannibal looked both ways and followed her.

“So I take it you’ve been here a few times?” he whispered.

The muscles on her back tensed up, as if she had forgotten about him and his voice had reminded her. But she continued surrounding the house, stopping at the crystal doors or windows, to make sure nobody would see them.

“A couple,” she answered, and the tone of her voice told Hannibal there was something she wasn’t telling. Something personal. “There’s a door right there, it leads to a living room where they never go, and Mason’s bedroom is a couple of rooms away. I don’t know where they’re keeping Will, but…” she closed her eyes for a moment, and then when she opened them, her eyes where colder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to persuade him to tell you.”  
“I have my ways. And where are _you_ going?”

She smiled just a little. 

“Mason is not the only Verger. And I have my ways too.”

Then, she went to the door she had told Hannibal and opened it carefully. She checked there was nobody in the room, and after looking at him one last time, she went in and disappeared to the left. Hannibal came in and closed the door but left it unlocked, just in case. Then, he turned to the right, straight for a door. He left the overdecorated living room after checking nobody was in the hallway, and after that he went through a room full of bookshelves with really old-looking books that he would’ve loved to stop at, another hallway, and finally, Mason’s bedroom. He entered the room like a ghost, without a sound that could give him away… but it didn’t matter, because both the room and the terrace were completely empty.  
He wandered a little in the room, shrinking his nose when he approached the bed, which stank of Mason, and it was a smell he really disliked.  
He was looking at a painting hung in one of the walls of the room, when he heard someone approaching. He hid behind the curtains next to the main door, so he could attack whoever came in.  
But when the door opened, Margot and Alana came in and they weren’t moving slowly or quietly.

“Hannibal? She’s going to help us,” Alana said, looking at the terrace.  
“Is she, now?” he said, coming out. 

Margot looked at him, and she almost looked bored, but she nodded.

“I will. Mason knows you’ve escaped and that she’s here,” she said moving her head towards Alana. “And he has your Will on the barn. With the pigs.”

That last sentence made him tense up. So he really was going to use Will to get to him.

“Where is he,” he said, not even asking, but demanding.  
“I’ll take you there. Just…” she started saying, and she was quiet for a moment. Hannibal thought maybe she was having second thoughts. It was his brother, after all, as annoying as he was. “I’ll take you and you can do anything you want. I want just two things: make sure he doesn’t survive… and make sure they know for sure that I didn’t do anything”.

Hannibal considered her proposition for a second.

“Deal,” he said, nodding.

Margot looked at him with her eyes half-closed, not entirely convinced, so he raised the hand with the hook in front of him.

“Pinky swear?” he asked, raising the corners of his mouth a bit.

Margot didn’t found it that funny, because she looked at him at if she wanted to jump and claw his eyes out, so he let the hand down.  
After a few seconds, she finally sighed and nodded.

“Okay, come on.”

And after a knowing look between her and Alana, Margot went out of Mason’s room and they followed her, Hannibal walking a couple of steps behind them. On the way they didn’t encountered anybody, not one of the many workers he knew Mason had, since he had met (and killed) a few of them. The house was empty, and Hannibal guessed it was because of what Mason had planned to do.  
They exited the mansion and Margot led them through the courtyard, passing in front of a stable and other barns. And finally, she stopped in front of one of the farther ones. This one had a door on the ground, but he knew right away that it was not the way they had to go in: this one had a set of stairs that would probably led to a platform above the pigs. Hannibal felt his muscles tensed, ready, awaiting. 

“I hope you keep your word, _Doctor_ Lecter,” she told him.

Hannibal took a step forward, not looking at Alana or Margot. 

“I always keep my word, as long as the situation allows me to,” he whispered. And then he looked at her and saw that she had her brow furrowed, in concern. “Do not worry, Margot. I _will_ keep my word.”

She nodded and looked at Alana again, before turning and walking back to where they had come. Hannibal looked at Alana and extended her hand towards the door.

“Shall we?”

Alana answered taking the gun from the pocket she had hid it in, and going upstairs.  
They both went in, and at first they didn’t see anyone. But Hannibal began to hear: the muffled sound of the pigs, moving restless on another room very close to where they were. And he began to smell: the obvious odor of livestock and filth, but also the vague smell of people, Will among them.

"Well, you've decided to join us, at last!" The voice of Mason echoed in the structure, and he heard the noise of the electric chair rolling behind the wall in front of them.

They moved forward, slowly, Alana tenser than Hannibal. And when they finally could see what was behind, he froze.  
Mason was in his chair, with his butcher standing on the right, but what worried him was what he had to his left: Will was strapped in a chair, with the same clothes he had dressed him with in Italy, the same dried blood he had last seen him with, but a lot more injuries. He seemed to have trouble keeping his head up or even his eyes opened, but he still gave him a look.  
Hannibal was going to lunch towards Mason when he felt a sharp blade on his neck. He immediately felt a drop of blood going down and melting on the fabric of his jersey.

"Drop it," said the voice behind him, and he dropped the hook.

"Tsk, tsk. Oh Doctor, I thought you were smarter," Mason said with his nasal voice. "See? I knew you were going to escape, and I gave you a choice: you could've gone away. But you stayed. Because of this one?" He asked, pointing at Will with his head.

Alana had been alternating the gun between the man behind him and Mason and his butcher. But Hannibal knew that before she could shoot, he would probably be dead. And he didn't have time for that.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Mason started saying, but he didn't give him the chance to finish.

Hannibal withdrew the little knife from his waist and stabbed the man on the thigh. He moved quickly when he was free of the blade, and moved the knife with precision to make a single cut on the neck of the man. Before he dropped to the ground, the guy was choking in his own blood, gulping and trying to breathe in vain.  
He turned to face Mason, and saw that the butcher had changed his place and he was now standing next to Will, with a gun pointed at his head. Alana was heavy breathing at his side, now with her own gun pointed at the butcher. Hannibal was starting to lose his patience.

“That was a very stupid move, Doctor Lecter,” Mason said.  
“You have to run, escape now, he wants to-“ Will began to say with difficulty, but the butcher hit him with the butt of the gun, and his head fell to his chest, unconscious. 

Hannibal didn’t know if the warning was directed to him, Alana or both of them. But his eyes twitched a little when the gun hit his head.

“Well, this is a shame. I didn’t want this to happen like this, this is all wrong! I was hoping to have a few more days until we got to this moment,” he explained, making the chair roll a little forward. “I wanted to feed you with him, you know? So you would eat him. That's what you probably were going to do, anyway, isn't it?” Mason asked him, with a grimace on his face, what Hannibal thought it was a smile. “I was going to do it so you wouldn’t know who you were eating. Just like you used to do.”

Mason laughed then, and Hannibal knew that his patience wasn’t running low; he just didn’t have any left. He didn't have time to listen to his jabbering.  
He then made two moves: he readjusted the knife on his hand and he threw it, aiming exactly where it landed: the butcher’s eye. He didn’t know why people kept underestimating him. He probably thought that just because he was aiming at Will with a gun, Hannibal couldn’t do anything. The butcher made a weird move, as if something had startled him, and not as if he had a knife stuck on his eyeball.

"What... What is...?" he started to ask, while he dropped the gun to the floor.

He stumbled backwards and fell out of the platform with a thud, just like that. Mason had observed everything silent, but he seemed to be aware of what was happening, and he panicked. He tried to make the chair move, but it seemed to have stuck.  
Hannibal started to go towards him when Alana walked past him, straight to Mason.

She stopped right in front of him and looked at him with disgust.

“So, now you are on _his_ side?” he asked her pointing at Hannibal.  
“No, I’m not. We just have the same goal right now,” she explained, calmly.

Mason laughed, visibly nervous, and Hannibal could smell the fear even from that distance.

“It’s not like I was on _your_ side, either. I was just helping you to get to him,” she told him, and shrugged her shoulders. “This was bound to happen anyway, sooner or later.”  
“So what, you’re going to kill me? You can’t do that, you don’t have what it takes to do that!!”

Alana smiled a little, and she looked at out left. Hannibal followed her gaze and saw Margot standing at the end of the platform. Alana nodded once, and she pushed something on a panel of buttons next to her. An alarm sound echoed on the barn, and the doors that had been holding the pigs inside of another room, opened. They started to fill the floor underneath them and he realized they weren’t pigs; they were huge wild boars, and soon he heard them chewing the body of the butcher. So that was Mason’s plan all along, to throw Hannibal (and probably Will too) to them.  
He looked at Alana with a little smile on his lips, on anticipation of what was going to happen.

“Your sister says hi,” Alana said, almost whispering.

Then, she circled the chair and started pushing it, with Mason pointlessly trying to make it go backwards and trying to make her pity him, and right after, trying to threaten her (“Stop this, please, please! I will pay you! More than you could imagine. Stop it, you stupid cunt, I will kill you!”). Soon they were on the edge, and she just pushed him down. Mason fell, screaming, and he landed on the center of the wild boars, that left the butcher’s body and went straight to him. They apparently much preferred alive and moving bodies.  
He watched for a few seconds how they ripped and destroyed him, chewing flesh and bones, and then he turned, going straight to Will. He heard Alana talking to Margot, but he didn't listen to them, because he was focused on Will, unconscious Will.  
He untied the ropes they had put around the chair and him (although he doubted Will would’ve had the strength to do much damage with no ropes). When he completely untied him, he remembered he had to do something before going out. He took a larger knife than the one he had lost on the eye of the butcher, and cut himself a little on the arm. He let his blood drop on the floor, and then he let a few drops on the banister. He added a couple of his hairs and left his fingerprints, just in case the police weren’t having a good day. That would suffice to keep his word to Margot.  
He finally came back to Will, and he examined his eyes and the new injury the butcher had made with his blow; he seemed ok, apart from being unconscious and battered, so he passed one arm beneath Will's legs, and lifted him with the other beneath his back. When he stood, Will's head moved lifeless against his shoulder, but he could hear his heart beating on his chest, and that comforted him. He looked around him and he saw no sign of Alana or Margo, so he just left.  
The walk from the barn to the exterior felt infinite. The stairs seemed twice as long as they had been when he went upstairs, and when he finally reached the ground, he walked towards the road.  
His right leg hurt like hell, along with the many injuries he had, but he only felt one thing: he weight of Will on his arms. He was more aware of him that anything else, and when he finally put enough space between the nasty barn and them, so that he couldn’t hear the wild boars, he fell on one knee.  
He then considered his options; he thought about how convenient would be if Will woke up in that moment, since he wasn’t sure he had the strength to carry his weight to escape through the woods. Or he could leave Will there and go back for him on another time, but he wasn’t very drawn to that option.  
And then he saw it: the stain of blood that was soaking through his shirt. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before.  
Hannibal placed Will with care on the ground, and he lifted Will’s shirt. Exactly on the place where the healed scar of his own stabbing was supposed to be, now there was an open wound. Mason (or most probably the butcher, but under his command) had stabbed him in the same place as Hannibal had months ago. He felt irritated at first, but at that very moment, he realized what he was going to do, and the decision surprised him, if only for a second.  
He ripped one of the sleeves on Will’s shirt, and pressed it against the wound. Then, he sat on the ground behind him, and he accommodated him so that Will’s back was against his chest, resting his head between his shoulder and his biceps. That way, he could press the wound with his left hand, and he had the other one free. Then, he began to clean his face, with no hurry. He had so much dirt and dried blood on his cheeks, and his forehead, even on his eyelids, and most of it was probably his fault. He had never intended to hurt him, not too much, just the necessary amount. But Mason clearly had had no intent to control himself. He just wanted to hurt him. Hurt them both.  
Hannibal heard then the distant, unmistakable sound of the police sirens, and of someone coming right towards him, but he didn’t need to look to know who that was.

“What are you doing?!?” Alana asked, screaming this time. She looked at him and Will with her eyes wide with panic and probably confusion because of the blood. “What happened to him?” she asked, but then she must’ve thought it was a pretty obvious answer, because she didn’t wait for a response. “The police are coming, they’ll be here in minutes. Margot called them.”

She said that as if he couldn’t hear them, but how could Hannibal blame her? He probably looked absorbed.

“I know,” he replied, not raising his gaze.  
“Hannibal, go!” she shouted, kicking the ground once, as if he was a wild animal that would run away with a loud sound.

He then looked at her, accommodating again Will’s head on his shoulder and resting his hand on Will’s chest.

“You go, Alana. I won’t tell them about you, don’t worry,” he assured her. “And you can tell Margo that I’ve kept my word.”

She opened her mouth as to say something else, but then she looked at the road that led to the farm, so she closed her mouth. She gave a last glance at Will and him, and she just nodded.  
Hannibal heard her getting on the car, starting it and driving the opposite way from the police. But he didn’t see her because he was looking at Will again, who had coughed and started to regain consciousness.

“Will? How are you feeling?” he asked him placing a hand on his cheek.

He coughed again, raised a hand and grabbed Hannibal’s wrist. He thought he was going to remove his hand from his cheek, but he just grabbed it and held it, as if he needed that contact to stay conscious. 

“Hannibal?”

He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. Hannibal could hear how his heart rate increased when he tried to move and found that probably every move hurt because of the wound. He was badly injured.

“I’m here,” he said, not sure that that was what he wanted to hear. He stroked his cheek with his thumb, and he felt Will doing the same on the back of his hand without loosening his grip.  
“What… what are you still doing here?” he asked, looking at the road, and he knew what he meant.

The police where closer now, and Hannibal could spot some of the red and blue lights among the trees. He sighed and felt a tear running down his nose when he looked at Will again.

“I couldn’t leave without you.”

Will looked at him and gave him a shaky smile followed by a grimace of pain, and Hannibal realized he was shivering. Maybe it was from the pain, or maybe it was because of the cold, since the sun was starting to set on the west. Or maybe it was for the same reason that another tear came down Hannibal’s nose and ended up on Will’s shirt. Maybe it was because Will knew, as he did, what this moment was. And this was not how he would’ve liked to spend his last moments of freedom with Will. If he was to be completely honest, he had been given the choice; going away and leave Will bleeding out, _again_ , or staying.  
And it hadn’t been a hard choice.

“Hannibal… you… you have to go. You have to,” he said, trying again to sit straight and failing, squeezing Hannibal’s hand in the process.  
“Shh… it’s ok,” he told him, adjusting the hand on Will’s wound, and then he started to caress his cheek again with the other hand, brushing a few curls that hung over his ear. “Do you remember what I said at the gallery? That I would remember that time, even if I saw you every day forever?” he asked, and he waited until Will nodded, shedding a couple of tears when he did. “I meant it. It will be on my memory palace, one of my most precious memories. I will remember the look on your face when we saw each other after such a long time. And I will remember the way _I_ felt.”

Hannibal let his head down slowly, and before he could do anything he felt Will’s lips touching his. It was a light brush that almost startled him even though he was going to do the same. But it had been Will who raised his face and made the contact. After such a long time, so many times he had wanted to do that, wondering what it would be like, curious about how Will would taste, and for the first time, not wanting to find out over a meal...  
When Will let his head fall back on Hannibal’s arm, he left his forehead fall down and touched Will’s with his. He could feel the aftertaste of Will’s blood on his lips. They stayed like that for only a few seconds, and when he lifted his head, he smiled and brushed the tears on Will’s cheek with his thumb.  
The following minutes, he didn’t look away from Will, not even once, and everything felt as if it was happening in slow motion.  
He didn’t look away when he heard the sirens really close, but at the same time really far, far away, as if he wasn’t inside his body anymore.  
He didn’t look away when the police cars started to stop in front of them, wheels sliding against the gravel, headlights making him squint for a moment, and the red and blue lights casting shadows on Will’s face, reflecting on his wet cheeks.  
And he didn’t look away when people started to surround them, yelling at them, too loud and too distant at the same time.  
And he didn’t look away when the policemen started to enter on his field vision, with their guns pointing at them (or him, most likely) and Will told him something that he couldn’t hear, worried.

He finally looked away when he thought that had been ages, even though everyone was in the same position. 

“Let go of him!!!” yelled someone at him.  
“On the ground!!”  
“Hands on your head, now!!!”

He knew that, if he didn’t let go of Will, they could hurt him unintentionally. So he had to, and he kept telling himself so as he did it.  
When he left Will’s cheek, he felt as if a cold breeze had surrounded him. He got on his knees, and even though Will would refuse to let him go, clawing his hands on his wrist, he finally backed up, clenching his teeth when the contact was broken.  
As soon as he did that, he had more hands that he could count grabbing him, crushing him against the ground with his face down. A couple of hands twisted his to handcuff him; another one grabbed his neck so he couldn’t move (they probably had been warned about how hostile he was); another two or three restrained his legs. During all this, he saw how Will fell on the floor and stared at him. Will pressed on his wound with one hand, and extended the other toward him, as if he could reach him and then everything would be fine. Will stayed like that until another policemen knelt beside him and started talking to him, probably asking him how he was, and he was tempted to tell them that they had to take care of him immediately and treat the wound, but he couldn’t find his voice.  
After that, the many hands that had restrained him on the ground lifted him, and he felt as if he wasn’t the one walking. It didn’t feel like his body; he was still with Will, he was still holding him on his arms, his hand caressing his cheek until he got better, and he wasn’t being led towards a police car with more force than necessary.  
The last look he gave to Will was when he was already on the car. He looked out of the window and he saw him sitting on a stretcher with an ambulance behind him. Will looked at him too, and then he was forced to lie down and the eye contact was broken.  
Hannibal suddenly heard and saw everything else. It was too loud, too brilliant.

 

[ _Three months later_ ]

He made a line with the pencil, and then he added a couple of details. The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore was finished, and it looked exactly as he would always remember. Beautiful, eternal.  
He heard a distant door opening and he opened his eyes, his concentration gone. The drawing he had been making on his mind dissolved rapidly, and he pricked up his ears to know what it was. A couple of minutes later he heard the door of his section opening. He then inhaled deeply, and rose immediately when he noticed a familiar scent on the air.  
He walked slowly to the translucent wall that was the only way for him to look outside of his cell. The steps advanced and the other prisoners started yelling and shouting at the person. They were very rude.  
Finally, he arrived to his cell, the last one, and he could see him standing in front of him. All dressed up with clothes too big for him, and the dark circles under his eyes.  
He had been visiting him frequently for the last two months, after a month of recovering from the injuries and what Hannibal suspected that had been a period in which Will had tried to rebuild his life without him. But how could he, knowing that he was there, confined in that hideous place, and that he was there because Hannibal had chosen him over his freedom. So he kept going, every time with a different excuse: professional opinion, a profile of a killer for an article, information for a book he was thinking about writing, or help with a new case… But every time, the excuse would find itself forgotten, while they talked about the things they had done to each other, and the things they could have done together, in another life, under different circumstances.  
And there he was again, young and tired and sad as always.

“Hannibal,” he said, making eye contact and nodding almost imperceptibly.

Hannibal smiled; a true, sincere smile.

“Will.”

 

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first, yes, this is for [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/). Again. She gave me a lot of the ideas that are written here, she was the producer of this fanfic (yes, that’s a thing now), and she’s read this fic like four times already. So yes, obviously this is for you, Hanni- I mean, redkakumei.
> 
> And obviously, to everyone that has reached this, THANK YOU for reading :)
> 
> \----
> 
> All information + links about my writing are [here](https://about.me/mizumohno).
> 
> Say hello to me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/mizumohno) and [tumblr](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/) :)


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